


It Takes Guts

by PaperAnn



Series: PaperAnn's Bingo 2018 Works [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protective Sam Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: Every time Dean scoped out a chick at a bar, laid on the charm—regardless if he ended up in their bed or not—Sam was irked. It was like nails on a chalkboard. The constant inability for Dean to keep it in his pants drove him nuts!It took a damn long time for Sam to grasp these feelings stemmed from jealousy.When he finally accepted the fact, Sam realized he had a voice. Sometimes, he'd see how loudly he could complain, hoping Dean's "attempted conquest" was turned off by their bickering. Sam no longer held back when calling Dean out on his cheesy pick-up lines, or telling him he could do better.The playful teasing and joking—it was returned—and maybe Sam liked the attention. With the right amount of finesse, the scene would change into a easy night: spent together.Tonight was one of those times where Dean was angling to blow off some steam. This was where Sam would normally,obsessively, act as the wrench, preventing Dean from getting laid.These days, his brother was his own worst enemy, being a cock-block all by himself.So when Sam decided to tell Dean, “Go have fun,” he meant it.What happened next, Sam never saw coming.





	It Takes Guts

If there was one thing the Winchester’s were excellent at, it was compartmentalizing and ignoring things.  Whether it was feelings, personal problems they _should_  be solving, or fights that needed to be played out—the back burner was the place they were most comfortable shoving those issues.

The current situation was an entirely new animal.  So much so, that it had been wrapped up from that familiar back burner, and tossed _out_ of the goddamn _kitchen_.

Slowly but surely, things on the road changed because of the ‘incident’ that neither Sam nor Dean was bringing up.  Months went by.  Both brothers noticed little things that used to be habit, breaking all around them.  Whether it was evolution or backpedaling, no one knew.

Sam could only hope it was leading up to something, but at the same time he was terrified of broaching the subject.  He didn’t want to have this conversation, no, not in a million years.

He couldn’t deny that Dean’s weaning attraction to women and declining rate of sexcapade had Sam sighing in relief.  In reality, every time he’d scope out a chick at a bar, lay on the charm—it didn’t matter if he ended up in someone's bed or not—Sam was irked.  It was like nails on a chalk board.  The flirtations and constant inability for Dean to keep it in his pants drove him nuts.

It took a damn long time for Sam to realize these feelings stemmed from jealously.  Jesus, _that_  was a helluva blow to be dealt…

Except, when he finally accepted it, came to terms with the fact he was just that messed up, he realized he had a voice.  Sometimes, he'd see how loudly he could complain, hoping the woman on the receiving end heard.  Sam no longer held back when it came to calling Dean out on his cheesy pick-up lines, telling him he could do.  The playful teasing and harassing—it was returned, and maybe Sam liked the attention.  
  
When Sam came to terms with who he was, he decided he could do little things to make himself happy.  The banter usually managed to distract Dean.  With the right amount of finesse, the scene would change.  It'd transform into a night with just the two of them, goading each other on and making some income at the pool table.  All potential hook-ups forgotten.

Over time, Sam found out ways to wedge himself in-between Dean and his future conquests.  His schemes worked by disguising himself as a good time rather than a cockblock.  There was a very fine line, and the trick—the masterful illusion—was to make _Dean_  believe it.  That is was his choice, that _Sam_ was his choice.

And he usually did.  Still, Sam couldn’t win a perfect score.

It was during one of those losses when it all went to hell.

When they stuffed what happened far, far away, out of sight—out of mind.  When things changed and Sam didn’t plan on talking about it— _ever_.  He’d rather die first, thank-you-very much.  Although…sometimes Sam wondered…there was a damn good chance it could have wrecked them, but it didn’t.  It hadn't.  There must have been a reason.  
  
Was it because of ignorance?  A battle of wills?  Or did he get lucky…?

No.  He was scared that even thinking about the incident, Sam forced it out of his head.  
  
He funneled his thoughts into their current hunt.

They were headed towards a town that had Crossroad’s Demon written all over it.  It looked like the asshole had been called by one sucker to make a deal, and decided they liked it there.  That weren’t ready to go home, back to Hell where they belonged yet and began...nesting.  All the usual signs acted as alarms, they held steady, as so long as they could gank this fucker before they smoked out, the contracts would get ripped up in the fireworks.

It was a three day drive that Dean was determined to make in two, but even he admitted they needed to stop for a break halfway.

Tonight was one of those nights where Dean was angling to blow off some steam.  This was where Sam normally, _obsessively_ , would act as the wrench, preventing Dean from getting laid.  But these days, his brother was the one who did that all by himself.

Which meant Sam didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t even know if he should go out drinking with Dean tonight or just let him be alone?  They had been on the road nonstop these days, living on top of each other.

So when Sam eventually decided, “Go have fun,” he meant it.

It only took about an hour alone in the motel for Sam to realize that he was going to go insane by himself in the silence.

Already seated at his laptop, (with the knowledge of which bar Dean was at) Sam Googled other joints in the area.  He deserved to let loose a little too, because— goddammit—Sam felt like his life was constant spent tiptoeing, walking on eggshells.  He lived in constant fear of Dean’s conversation starters after an elongated span of silence in the Impala.  He needed to breathe.

Once Sam located a bar, (a shady dive—the best kind) he grabbed his coat and took off.

Sam had no idea how long either of them would be out, but it wasn’t like Sam's goal was finding a good fuck.  He only wanted a couple (okay, _more_ than a couple) drinks to loosen up, and he was pretty sure he’d be the first person back anyway.  Whether Dean was searching the crowd for someone or not, he always found company.  Call it a gift, he was a social creature no matter the situation.    
  
The reminder had Sam grinding his teeth, and only made him move faster to get to this bar.

God, did he need a shot…

\--------------------

Something pretty crazy happened.  There was a _skip_ in his step when Sam eventually returned to the motel.

He hadn’t anticipated being there until last call, but he was.  It was Trivia Night and a group of college kids from the local university needed one more team member.  So Sam— already five shots in—decided why not?  Naturally, they won.  The prize was cash, a much more honest way of making some extra pocket change rather than hustling pool.

Fuckin’ Trivia Night.

Getting drunk and being _normal_  for a change…it was so foreign and odd that Sam barely remembered how to interact with regular society.  With civilians.

He was digging through his pocket, searching for the room key as he turned the corner—

And the wind was punched from his lungs.  Sam barely had sharp enough reflexes at the time to grab the wall, or else he would’ve fallen flat on his face.  Ice was sent flying everywhere, like a heavy downpour of rain, and a few pieces went down his damn shirt!  He began pulling wildly at the fabric, hoping to force them to fall out.

Once he regained his footing, still clinging to the wall, he realized exactly who he collided with—

“Sam?!”  Dean angrily threw the ice bucket down on the concrete.  “Where the fuck have you been?!  You too smashed to look where yer going?”

“Uh, I went out…” He had not expected this reaction, he'd never garnered it before.  "I'm sorry, do you want me to get more ice?"  Although Sam offered, the amount of force of Dean chucking the bucket at the cement had cracked the entire side.  
  
Filling it was an accident waiting to happen, anything that melted would pool _around_ the bucket, not in it.  There were many accidents from the brothers barreling into each other—two strong men with a destination, not foreseeing the other coming around that corner.  Accidents, just like Sam's now-damp shirt, where once piece of ice was still stuck: damp would soon turn to wet.  And Dean's shoulder, from when he bounced off Sam and hit the wall _hard_.

"Fuck the ice," Dean huffed and began stomping off towards their room, Sam feeling horrible and following right on his heels.  “And you went—where?  ‘Cause you sure as hell weren’t at the same bar as me!  Why was that?  Are you sick of me?  Or were you looking for someone to hook up with?”

He opened the door for both to enter, and as Dean’s words shocked Sam, he deliberately made noise, slamming it behind them— _that_ was a statement.

Sam’s jaw dropped, and he tried a few times to form words.  The _correct_  words.  “I…went to another bar so I wouldn’t be in _your_  way if you…you know.  Wanted to go home with someone tonight.”  Feeling utterly defeated, because he couldn't do anything right, Sam sat on the edge of the bed and hung his head.  “It’s been so long, I assumed that was your plan.”

A bit of the tension in Dean’s frame softened—Sam probably looked like the kicked puppy he felt—and he tilted his head.  “So you didn’t want to see me with someone else, huh?”

The question was loaded, and Sam didn’t understand how he arrived at that conclusion.

It should have been ‘you didn’t want to be in the way,’ or ‘you didn’t want to mess up my game.’  But Dean actually hit the nail on the head and he shouldn’t have!  Sam had no idea what to do…

Luckily, Dean continued, taking a seat next to Sam with his voice pitched lower.  “I get it, you know… When I came back here, just to see you were gone?  I tracked your phone to that other bar.  Knew you were boozing it up for sure.  And when you'd made the choice to do it without me there?  I thought you were out to bang, too.  And fuckin’ hell, Sammy, that _really_ got under my skin.”

Finally, Sam had to look at Dean, look into his eyes, to see if he was serious.  This would be a cruel lie, otherwise.

These words, they were all the confessions that Sam had always wanted to say but never had the guts.  In a turn of events, they were pouring from _Dean’s_ lips instead of his own.  What the hell...  Was it too good to be true?  No—it wasn’t.  These emotions and sentiments were genuine, Sam could see it in his brother’s gaze, plain as day, and he tried his best not to quake from the sudden gravity of it all.

Swallowing hard, Sam said, “It gets under mine, too…that’s why I couldn’t go with you, I couldn't see you pick someone up tonight.  I’m sorry I made you worry and freak out.  I didn’t mean to.  Shit's been…different lately.  And I never know what to expect, I guess.  I want to give you your freedom, your space.  Even if it means—”

“Oh, shut up!” Dean butted in and grabbed Sam’s collar, demanding his full attention.  “Are we gonna keep pretending?  That it didn’t happen?”

“Yes, I-I am.”  His mouth was dry, both because he couldn’t talk about this, and the fact they were only a breath away.  “Let’s ignore—”

“Can’t, it changed things.  For _me_.  If it meant what I thought it did.  Did it mean something?”  Dean wondered aloud, leaning in even more and giving life to the words Sam feared the most.  “I’m sorry I woke you up that night, I really thought you were asleep.  But, fuck, Sammy.  Do you have _any_ idea how it changed things?  When you caught my eye, when you watched me fuck her from behind, when all I saw was _you_?  All I could think about was _you_.  She had no idea, but it felt like it was only us in that room…And when I came, we never looked away from each other, and I-I never stopped pretending.  Not once.”

With shudder and a hitch in his breathing, Dean laid Sam back on the mattress and hovered above him.  His eyes were both lustfully darkened and dancing with wonder.  “I didn’t make it up, did I?”

Sam, practically pinned down as Dean hovered over him, shook his head.  “N-no.  You didn’t.  I…wanted to be her.  I’m sorry, I should never have watched, I’m _so_ goddamn embarrassed, and—!”

“Hell no,” Dean clucked his tongue.  “Don’t you dare be sorry, that was the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time.  Because of you.”

There was no way he could hold back anymore.  Even if it was all physical, even if they were talking about sex, and even if it was a drunken moment of stupidity, Sam was giving himself permission to be stupid.

His arms lashed out and wrapped around Dean’s neck.  Sam yanked him down so their bodies collided, and he hauled their lips together.   _Jesuschrist_ , he’d been imagining this exact moment for so long, it was insane…the sensation of Dean’s mouth moving against his own, it was happening.

Dean responded so beautifully—with enthusiasm and eager, caressing hands.  He wasted no time as he licked into Sam’s mouth, hungry for the hopeful, passionate kisses that sparked a deeper need.  Soon, their hips were rocking together, demanding connection, and yearning to fill a primitive thirst.

They were a tangled mess of legs wrapped around legs, waists, arms and digging fingers.  Dean eventually muscled away, even though Sam whimpered in frustration, but it looked like he had other plans.  He was gunning to take this beyond making out—Sam realized with an unintentional whine—that thought had his cock pulsing.

“I gotta grab something outta my bag,” Dean explained as he crawled off the bed, panting and flushed.  “You?  Lose the clothes.”

Sam could easily follow that command.  Easily _and_ quickly.  He was racing against, who was Dean fiddling with the zippers of his duffle bag.

Until tonight, all Sam had dared to pray for was acceptance, that his freakshow tendencies (his entire life was filled with them) wouldn’t leave him shunned and alone.  This was something he was never bold enough to imagine, Dean actually in this madness  _with him_ , it seemed ridiculous and impossible—

Still...here Sam was.  Naked and waiting, as Dean returned with lube and a condom, his ass looking delicious in those thin boxers he'd stripped down to.

There was a gasp caught in his throat as he watched Dean move.  Except, after he coated his fingers and spread Sam’s legs…he paused.  Why did he pause?

“Crap, I’m getting ahead of myself, we never even talked about this,” Dean muttered, half thinking aloud and half pitched towards Sam.  “Do you want this as much as I do?”

Oh, _that_ was a joke, Dean had no idea.  Maybe someday Sam would let him in on the punchline.  On all his stupid pining, wet dreams and the memories of Dean's orgasm, on replay, in his mind.  Currently, Sam tried to contain any bursts of laughter and instead grabbed his brother’s wrist, tugging and leading exactly where he wanted him.  He even manipulated Dean’s fingers, folding a few but guiding two directly to his hole—Sam watched every moment of rapture and awe flash on Dean’s face.

“Holy hell, Sam—you’re so goddamn sexy—”  The words spilled from Dean’s lips as his fingers pushed beyond the taut rim of muscles.  Once the pair was inside, he perked up, realizing how _easily_ he could move them, plunge them in and out, stroke inside Sam.  “You like this, don’t you?”

Sam was both enthralled and impatient, rolling his hips against Dean’s ministrations as he began twisting and scissoring, his body was demanding more.  “Damn right, I do.  C’mon, I know you can do better than this.”

“Should’ve known you were mouthy."  He sounded simply thrilled, as he worked in a third digit.

It took a sharp inhale through his teeth for Sam’s tense and clenching opening to acclimate.  He wanted this so badly, more than he could remember wanting anything in his entire fucking life—    
  
He was starved, craving even the lightest brush of Dean’s touch.  At the same time, Dean was keenly following each demand Sam doled out—knowing his own limits.  They were both enjoying every second all while fighting to get to that next step.  Grasp their long-awaited fantasy, it was so close within their reach…

“I’m ready,” Sam whispered, grabbing the back of Dean’s head and pulling him in for another kiss.

A single kiss turned into a flurry, they continued to multiply until they were dizzy.  Sam was lust-drunk to the point he hadn’t even noticed Dean stripping off his boxers and rolling the condom down his shaft.  He was busy savoring and capturing all the fleeting moments in his memories.  The brush their now-swollen lips, Dean's arousal-darkened eyes, both memorizing what made the other tick during every sizzling touch of foreplay.    
  
So friggin soon, Sam would actually get the one thing he hadn't been brave enough to ask for.  That he'd refused to even bring up.

Until today.  Until Dean was the stronger (or perhaps more intoxicated) person who spoke the words.  Now Sam wondered: why hadn’t they done this sooner?

“Do you want it just like the show you watched?”  Dean’s grin was wicked, “Bent over with a face full of pillow?  Or do you have other plans?”

Shit, he’d jerked off to this image a million ways, but now that it was here—what did Sam want?  He could feel precum oozing down his length as Dean questioned him, his neglected cock was aching, he was so hard—he needed to answer to get relief.

“First time we’re together?  I don’t want it to be a call-back to one of your other fucks,” Sam brutally stated.  “I want it just like this.  So I can kiss you, so I can watch you, and…it’ll feel like it’s only you and me in the room.”

The flash of mischief on Dean’s face from Sam recalling his own words was brief, but it meant trouble.  Dean was nodding and lining up.  “It’s even better this time,” he fought to keep his voice steady, as he began sinking into Sam’s gorgeous, tight body, “'cause it really is only y-you’n me.  H-how I’ve always wanted it—oh _fuck_ —”

Sam grappled for Dean’s hips and thighs, pulling him in and anchoring him when they became one.  He used pure strength and determination to pull Dean’s cock further still inside him, needing to feel every inch, as far as he could plunge.  Sam wanted to _feel this_ in the morning.  God, he was stretched, pushing his own boundaries on Dean's thickness, and Sam already knew before Dean started moving this would be amazing.  
  
After all, he _had_  gotten a preview, having seen it firsthand.

Once he began to rock, Sam loosened his death grip on Dean and his hands skated up his back, tentatively lingering.  Dean barely gave him the chance to adjust, and that was perfect for Sam, he _wanted_ his brother to take control.  Sam had just enough time to plant his feet to arch up from the bed, meeting Dean's thrust with his own rolling hips.

That was when he decided to loop his arms around Dean’s shoulder blades for purchase, a much better angle to haul their bodies together with each rough and brutal snap into his virgin hole.  Sam was strapped into a rollercoaster—even from his previous sneak-peek, nothing compared to the ride he was on now.  The tenacity and force of Dean’s cock slamming inside him—it was mind-blowing.

“Dean, faster!”  His brother already called him mouthy—right?  Why not play it up?  "Fuck me clear through this damn mattress!"

“Oh, you want faster and rowdier, huh?”  Dean readily accepted the challenge with a husky voice.  In the process, he ducked downward and scooped up Sam’s legs, hooking his knees over Dean's shoulders.  That move effectively took away all of Sam's control—what the hell!  “Any other requests, Princess?”

Another time Sam would’ve had a smartass answer.  Currently, he physically _could not_ form words.

Dean’s hips were pistoning, were pumping like a well-oiled machine, and Sam had cranked up the dial with his words.  Words that crumbled into babbling sounds of pleasure.  There was a fevered hunger, an undeniable passion, and something else that put what they began with to shame.  Even though Sam couldn’t do much to physically assist, he sure as shit could show his appreciate in more creative ways…

He moaned and all but sung out Dean’s name to watch him light up, praising him for how amazing he felt.  Sam also took advantage of the fact that he could gawk openly.  He could watch the sweat drip down Dean's brow, see the intense desire and fire brightly burning mere inches away within Dean’s eyes—it was _breathtaking_ …before Sam even knew what he was saying, the words they never truly spoke were out of his mouth:

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. I love you.”

It was Sam’s ears that picked them up rather than his brain, and that was when he realized they were out in the open.  But fuck it, he _meant it_ , so was it wrong to say it?

To Dean’s credit, he only fumbled for a split-second before dipping forward and kissing Sam again.  The wanton groan against his lips of, “I’m close, Sammy,” was something akin to permission.    
  
Sam was waiting on it—  
  
And suddenly, Dean hit him with a curve ball.

The returned, “I love you,” shocked Sam’s senses.  
  
The words he didn't expect, coupled with the delivered intent—it struck so deep that Sam cried out in ecstasy and surprise, his orgasm rushing up on him and drawing him under.

Dean worshiped Sam's neck as he threw his head back, covering it with hot, yet tender, open-mouthed kisses.  A few had the barest graze of teeth—making Sam thrash and writhe.  He knew the cum covering them both was going to be a huge mess, but the slick glide between their bodies felt awesome.  Dean surprised him again, actually sealing his lips over a sensitive spot on Sam's neck and sucking the blood to the surface.

Leaving a mark…

It was unlike him, Dean had spoken words _against_ 'reminders.'  Being the exception...it filled Sam with even more warmth when he was coming down into the afterglow.

Dean looked at the mark through heady-lidded eyes and the snaps of his hips turned into long, powerful thrusts.  When he came, Sam was coherent enough and able to watch every glorious moment—he had the best seat in the house.

It was stunning.  Dean didn’t hold back when he had the privacy of intimacy, Sam never would have expected this kind of rawness out of his brother.  Dean was fearless as he moved, as he continued to caress Sam, making sure there wasn't even a _second_ where Sam was neglected.  Dean, above all else, was a giving lover.  And, _holy fuck_ , was Sam awe-struck.  The way Dean's muscles flexed as he brace himself, his chest flushed pink and the slight glistening sheen of sweat illuminated his outline…

This couldn’t have been any better.  Sam wondered, as they wordlessly moved to the other bed after clean-up, what if this was all a dream?

No, his ass was sore.  It was fantastically well-fucked from a silent wish that came true, and…wait.  Sam had to make sure.

He was resting in the crook of Dean’s shoulder when he initially hesitated, but pushed beyond his nerves.  “This wasn’t only because you’re drunk, right?”

“Sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and ruffled Sam’s hair, “One of the reasons I was so freaked out about you being out and about?  Was because _I_ came right back.  I had two drinks, then turned around because I wanted to be with you.  Not out at some bar, flying solo.  I’ve been sober for a while now.”

“Oh, wow.  I…thank you,” Sam was stunned all over again, unsure of how to react.  “I've gotta thank you for having the balls I never did...to bring this up.”

There was a brief pause, before Dean pointed out, “You’ve got balls.  You said you love me.  That takes balls— _and_ guts—for a Winchester.”

Huh.  Sam never thought of it like that, but he could see how Dean would think that.  Even though it wasn't guts but emotionally inspired word-vomit.  He’d felt it spilling over the brim with no where else to go besides the open air and Dean’s ears—he needed to know how Sam felt, and Sam would tell him as many times as he needed.

Except Dean sounded like he already knew.  And a Winchester experiencing acceptance and love?  _That_ took guts, too.

“It’s true.  I mean it now, I mean it always,” Sam whispered and stretched just enough to kiss Dean’s cheek.  “What do you think about that?  ‘Always?’”

“Heh, you were gonna be my ‘always’ anyway.  Now there are more perks that go with the job, right?”  While his language was frisky, the nuances in his tone were genuine and wistful.

Dean was happy.  He was happier than Sam had seen him in a long time, and he wondered—had this been building up in Dean, as it had been with Sam?

It didn’t matter now, they’d worked it out.  The personal insanity was over and Sam no longer felt like a freak, he felt...giddy.  They could move on, compartmentalize other things or…make a change.  Avoid compartmentalizing, turn over a new leaf, avoid _avoidance_  completely.  This switch in their roles could impact the entirety of their relationship, and it would be for the better.  This was the best thing that could happen to them, and it wasn't only about sex…although it (naturally) played a part.

“Perks like slapping a hickey on my neck?” Sam wondered aloud, just to tease him.

Dean groused, “Shut up.  That was a in-the-moment, kinda deal.  You left me stewing for a damn long time tonight, by the way, it gave me a bunch of hours to expect the worst—to get petty and jealous.  But I have to admit, it looks good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.  Getting up and checking it out in a mirror is the last thing I wanna do.  Unless it’s a necessity.”  He wiggled around a little, and found himself smiling at the soreness between his legs.  "I may be walking funny for a few days."  
  
There was no doubt a mind-reading Crossroad’s Demon would hone in on that fun little fact.  The question would be: who was faster on the draw?  Them killing the demon, or the demon broadcasting the development of the... _nature_ of their relationship.  A better question was...did Sam even care?

“You begged for it!”  It was a weak defense.  Dean sounded proud and Sam sounded sated.  “Not my fault your ass—”

“Okay, let's call it good, _before_ you ruin the moment.  Or any small hint of romance we may have had going…”  Sam pulled Dean closer, but not before taking some time out to kiss him sweetly.

“I can be romantic,” was Dean’s hushed counter against Sam’s lips, “And I’ll prove it to you.”

Sam beamed and chuckled.  “We’ve got time.  I know when you’ve got your head stuck on something—”

“—I’ll make it happen.  When you least suspect it.”  He pecked Sam’s forehead and let out a long, dreamy sigh that was meant as a bedtime ritual.  “This’ll be fun.”

“You mean Surprise-Romance?  It sounds _terrifying_ ,” Sam battled to remain monotone in timbre, but amusement leaked through.

Dean‘s “Well, you’ll have to wait and see, now won’tcha?” sounded very much like a threat, but of course, Sam expected that from his brother.

“I will.  I’ll be on the look-out, ready to take on whatever romance is thrown my way.  Until then, we’ve got a Crossroad’s Demon to gank.”

“Yep.  And a long drive ahead of us.  Dammit, why did it have to be halfway across the country?”  He dramatically knocked his head back against the pillow and grunted.

“Oh, because we have new perks, does that mean you’ll listen to me more?”  Sam ventured a guess, and suggested, “You know this _isn’t_ a two day drive, it’s a _three_ —”

“No way in hell, Sam.”

“Okay, never mind, thought I’d try.”

“Yeah.  Don’t do that again.”

At least Sam knew his limits...  
  
He also knew not to push these limits, not to piss Dean off, because he was looking forward to every single one of these new perks.  Just like now.  Sam wouldn't trade holding Dean through the night for anything in the world.    
  
This new normal was crazy, but then again: Sam always been more comfortable within the madness.  He wasn't alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo  
> Square Filled: Wincest  
>  **AND**  
>  SPN Fluff Bingo  
> Square Filled: Pushed Into Them


End file.
